Children of the Night
by Dragoness243
Summary: A Zelda-fication of Bram Stoker's gothic novel Dracula. Young Link Wolfe, a park ranger in Hyrule gets an invitation from his park's foreign benefactor, and he journeys across the land to visit him. VERY AU.
1. Link Wolfe's Journal

**What's up?**

**Well, I'll tell you one thing, this idea hit me like a ton of bricks and I just had to write it. I know I should be updating my other fic…but this one was too good to waste. **

**Well, I'll shut up after I state the obvious once more. I DO NOT, under any pretences, own The Legend of Zelda or Bram Stoker's_Dracula._**

**Enjoy my work of utter brilliance.**

**Just so you know, it's a modern-is thing, though you'd probably tell.**

**And so we go!**

…………

_**Link Wolfe's Journal**_

_February 2, 2008; Zora's Domain_

Left Ordon on Feb. 1 at about 6:30 PM, and arrived at Castle Town pretty early in the morning today, as anyone could tell: the sun had barely risen an hour before. I was expected a bit later, but as the roads were clear and traffic was light, I got there early. The people in this town were crazy busy when they finally woke up much earlier than in my sleepy little hometown. It was hard to get a word out of any one of them. Of course, I didn't expect them to help a total stranger, but a set of directions would have been nice.

I was to meet my guides (if you want to call them that) at the Hyrule Castle Historic Site, which was an ancient marble castle with blue shingles (in surprisingly good condition, too) that was now the Hyrule National Museum. It was around 8 AM when we finally departed the city in the lead guide's red SUV.

It was a long drive, I'll tell you what.

We arrived in Kakariko at about 4:25 that afternoon, evening I suppose, give or take ten minutes, too and after my guides left, I checked into the Elde Inn. The place was pretty well done up for a town nowhere near the size of Castle Town. Now that I think on it, that's a pretty strange name for a capital city.

The inn served dinner for its guests--at an extra 100 rupees, the cheap bastards. They're lucky that it was _really_ good. I wasn't usually a fan of chicken Pesto…but now I assuredly would be. (_N.B. remember to ask for a recipe to give to Zel back home.)_

The population of Kakariko--unlike Castle Town which was predominantly Hylian in its demographic--was a well blended mix of Gorons, Shiekah, Hylians and Zora, though the latter was the clear minority. Lucky for me, among that minority--I hate calling them that, but it's true--were the people that were going to bring me to my next destination. Even more fortunate was that I knew majority of the language. I marvelled at the amazingly thriving culture that existed in this town, and so I picked up a few trinkets for Zelda.

The next day came pretty quick, and we were off once again. Though, I was strangely happy to leave, 'cause I had had really strange dreams the night before involving giant wolves…. That might have been the result of the sauce from my dinner, or that damn yappy dog the neighbours of the inn had that pleased itself by howling and barking all hours of the night.

A we travelled through the countryside passing a handful of villages whose names I didn't know, the people seemed more… I don't know, _rustic_ or something. Tradition seemed to be very important here. They even dressed in the older style, looking like something out of a history book.

Once, the SUV belonging to my Zoran guides was stopped by a rather ragtag group. Literally. Two of the Gorons that populated the group physically stopped the vehicle with their bare hands. Who looked to be the leader of the band, a stiff and burly man wearing a padded bodysuit and a shawl wrapped around his head that hid all but his eyes had approached the driver's side window with his falchion (who carried a sword nowadays?) drawn. He had talked to the driver in Zoran, but too quickly for me to pick up on any of the conversation.

After the brief exchange, the man left, taking his followers with him, but not before he looked at me--directly!--with his burning red eyes and drawing the symbol of the Triforce on his chest.

My driver assured me that they were just offering advice and advising us not to take certain roads. Harmless, he called them.

Like a guy with a three foot double edged blasé was harmless. Right.

Finally, after no more unexpected stops, but with a lot more Triforce marking locals, we reached the tiny hamlet of Zora's Domain. Before we'd left Kakariko, I'd been sent a letter from my soon-to-be host, Count Dragmire (Count? These people were _really _old fashioned) detailing that he personally recommended the Holy Reekfish inn, a placed that matched the rest of the area and its people.

When we got there, I had clearly been expected.

A friendly old yeti woman (Yeta, she told us her name was) greeted me. Actually, I walked right into her at the door. After I'd caught me bearings--and the looks of the inn's patrons--she bowed to me and said in somewhat broken Hylian, "Sir Hylian?"

I'd went along with it. "Yeah," I answered, "Link Wolfe."

She bowed again and handed me a cream coloured envelope embossed on the back with the same wax seal of a boar's head as the letter I had received in Kakariko, and then left before I could thank her or apologise.

I sat at one of the vacant tables and broke the seal. Taking out the parchment inside, I read:

_My good friend,_

_Welcome to Eastern Hyrule. I hope your trip went well. I anxiously await your arrival. Sleep well this evening. A coach and horses shall arrive to bring you to my castle. They will take you though the Castor Wilds through the Snowpeak Mountains. At the Gerudo Valley entrance my personal coach will await you. I trust that your voyage has gone smoothly, and I hope that you enjoy your stay in this beautiful land._

_Your friend,_

_Dragmire._

_February 3._

So the letter had come from the Count (that still sounded odd to me) himself. Apparently, on the account of the innkeeper Yeto, Dragmire had asked some seemingly explicit details about myself, but as to what, the man wouldn't specify. In fact, he suddenly pretended not to understand me anymore. _That_ was complete _bull_ (though I kept my mouth shut) since he'd answered all my other questions. He and his wife kept giving each other strange looks, like I was either completely crazy or like they were worried about something.

It got worse when I asked them what the y knew about Count Dragmire, since my knowledge of him was very limited. At that point, they marked their chests with the Triforce symbol and muttered that they knew nothing at all and that I should _inquire no further_!

Like that wasn't suspicious at all.

How could they freak out like that? The guy had seemed pretty pleasant when we were corresponding through email. Now that I think about it, he has got to be insanely rich in order to get internet connection out here.

It got worse.

Just before I had been ready to leave, Yeta came up to my room and wailed, "Must you go? Young man, must you go?" She got herself so worked up that she began to cry about something in a whole bunch of languages I couldn't discern and wrung her hands about like it was the end of the world.

"Look, lady, calm down!" I urged as she flailed about. After going on like that for ten or so more minutes, she stopped and gave me a look that could have made the Hero himself crap his pants.

"You know what day it is?" she asked me.

"I--" I started. Did I not see a calendar tacked to the wall downstairs? "It's February 3rd, why?"

She shook her head. "No, no! It is the night of the Were Moon! Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight and the Great Silver Eye is open it's fullest that all evil things hold full sway? Do you know where you are going and what you are going to?" The old girl was in such a state that I, very awkwardly, tried to comfort her, but to no avail.

Finally, in the throes of her nervous breakdown, she threw herself at my feet and _begged_ me not to go; so stay for at least another day or two. It was _really_ uncomfortable.

However, I had important matters to attend to, and at this rate I was going to be late. So, I helped her up and I told her that I really had to go.

She stood and dried her eyes on a white and blue hanky embroidered with blue leaves and took a necklace from which hung a tiny golden Triforce from a pocket in her thick woollen dress and offered it to me. Now, I wasn't the most religious guy on the block, but fearing she'd break down again, I hesitantly accepted it. She must have seen me hesitate, so she put it around my neck herself.

"For the sake of your mother and your wife," she told me, then left.

I could feel myself heat up in the face, and I wanted to tell her that I was an orphan, and that Zelda and I weren't married just yet…I still hadn't had the guts to propose. But the blush d=soon cooled as the colour drained from my face--I could feel it. I swear, fear was infectious, and I now had it terminally. Right then I felt that I was going to die soon. So if these soon to be blog entries make it back to Ordon before I do…let this be my goodbye.

_Feb. 4; The Castle_

Now, on this lonely road travelled and occupied only by the caravan and myself, the sun had risen above the peaks, casting them in complete shadow, making their forms seem dark and imposing. I really wanted to get to my destination, but compared to my good old truck, these horses were _so slow!_

The fear I had felt last night hadn't left me, and the reactions of the locals when they'd heard of my destination weren't helping. They'd yammered words in different dialects, but I'd picked up on a few that I'd recognized--all of which had something to do with werewolves or vampires. (_N.B: ask Dragmire about their crazy superstitions._)

Everyone I passed made the Triforce sign, and did all other kinds of religious things, including the coach driver.

All that had happened up to that point occupied my thoughts, but I broke out of my trance for a bit to survey my surroundings. The tall, jaggedly sharp mountains surrounded us on all sides, making me feel as if I were in the open mouth of some great beast. Powdery white snow capping the mountains glittered in the sunlight.

I wish Zelda were here to see this with me.

//_Later_//

Finally we arrived at the Gerudo Valley. Though it was dark now, I could tell that the terrain was still very mountainous. Through the blackness I squinted, hoping to see the next carriage that would take me to the Count, and yearning for a flashlight.

Fortunately, the driver had one. With a click, he flicked it on and scanned the area around us. In the slight eminence from the beam, I saw him scowl. He turned to the others accompanying us and said: " there is no carriage here." His Hylian was rather…bad. "Sir is not expected after all. We will take him back to Zora's Domain and he will wait for the next day; better is two."

After he'd finished speaking, the horses went nuts.

They started rearing and bucking, stomping, spitting, and snorting. The air in front of them was thick with the mist of their hot breath. Now, I'm no expert on horses, but I know enough about them to say that something was coming. Something bad.

I turned sharply when I heard the driver gasp then curse violently. I didn't know exactly what he'd said, but the explosive tone of his voice suggested a certain four lettered word.

That's when I saw it. With its four jet black horses and heavily cloaked driver, the carriage from hell came barrelling toward us from up ahead. Through the dark cowl, I could see the man's eyes glinting, almost an impossibly bright shade in their appearance.

"You are early tonight, my friend," he said in a strangely high voice. If only he'd had a sickle, he could have been Death himself.

"The Hylian sir was in a hurry," the driver of my coach stammered in reply.

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to return to Zora's Domain. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much and my horses are swift." he grinned as he spoke, the quavering light from my guide's flashlight falling upon the lower part of the stranger's cowl, illuminating the glittering white smile.

His teeth, I noted were rather…sharp looking, and the way they crisscrossed, it appeared as if his lips were stitched together. "Give me the young sir's luggage," he demanded. His grin widening in what I assumed (hoped) to be a friendly smile.

As if they were on fire, my duffel and suitcase were launched into the stranger's carriage and I was pushed out unceremoniously. The cloaked driver helped me into his vehicle, his grip like a vice on my upper arm. Before I could totally settle in, he cracked the reins and the horses shot off like rockets.

Well, he was right about one thing, his horses _were _swift.

As we plunged further into the inky blackness of the Valley, a cold and lonely feeling crept into my veins, threatening to freeze my blood. A thick woollen cloak was thrown over my forest green hoodie, whose hood was pulled over my blonde head to warm up my long ears pierced twice, and a thicker blanket thrown over my jeans.

"The night is chill, my good sir, and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of rum under the seat if you need it," the driver said. From my vantage point beside him, I could see that his unnaturally pale face had a bluish tint to it and fiery orange eyes were set into his soft-looking head, matching the colour of his short hair. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A real, bona-fide Twili.

The carriage rumbled straight down the path for what seemed to be miles upon miles, the strong black stallions never slowing. I clicked together the buttons on my watch to illuminate the face in order to check the time. It read 11:52.

Suddenly, I was reminded of old Yeta's words. What was it about midnight she had said? I couldn't accurately recall, but, at the same time, I was scared again.

My fears were added to when, somewhere in the distance, a dog began to howl, a long and mournful sound that was soon taken up by another dog, then another, and another. For a ways down the straight Valley path we were serenaded by the dogs' howling, until, as the castle itself came in sight (what a foreboding thing it was, with its black spires) the dogs' howling ceased, and the sharper, more throaty howling of _wolves_ began.

It was when the wolves began their noises that the horses started to balk.

The driver gathered up the reins and gripped them tighter in his hands to bring them under control, but, as we were but half a kilometre from the castle, they totally lost it.

I craned my neck to see why, and, to my complete surprise, a pack of large, ravenous wolves had jumped into the path. They stood in the road, some pacing, all panting, glaring at us with horrible yellow eyes. The ones nearest to us threw back their shaggy heads and howled again, the piercing sound upsetting the horses even more.

Which, was not something altogether welcoming.

Again, the fear of the horses seemed to seep into me, and I felt my heart begin to race. I had encountered wolves before, being a park ranger myself, but there was something about these wolves that was…unnatural.

As the horses continues to rage, the driver fought just as hard to bring them in. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. The carriage rocked, causing the doors to fly open, and me to fall out. I crashed to the cold ground and cowered, just waiting for the wolves to seize me, but they didn't move.

Instead, the biggest wolf of them all, a female, with black fur with white streaks running though, jumped onto the path. Slowly, she advanced on me, holding my gaze with her own. I couldn't move.

Suddenly, she leapt. All I saw at that moment were the fierce yellow eyes and the _teeth_. But before she could close her jaws around my throat, the driver belted her to the side, quick as a flash. But she recharged quickly and leapt again, this time, she was able to close her fangs around my right arm. I yelled in pain, and she let go, as if scalded. She eyed my right hand, and then howled once. Then, she and the other wolves jumped away, leaping nimbly among the rocks.

The driver came to my side and helped me up with that iron grip of his. "Are you alright?" he asked. I had seen him previously whispering something to the horses.

"F-fine," I stammered, getting into the coach once again.

He nodded once, cracked the reins and we were off once again.

Everything seemed so strange and ominous to me, and, through my choking fear and the throbbing pain in my arm, couldn't move or speak. By now, time seemed to have stopped as we swept on our way, the rolling clouds covering the giant full moon, plunging us once more into blackness.

When the clouds receded, there it was, in its full glory, the dark and dreadful silhouette of Castle Dragmire.

…………

**Well, that was different, wasn't it?**

**Some of the lines came directly from the novel, like the exchange between the driver of Dragmire's coach, and the driver of Link's coach. Who, as you might tell is an old friend ;)**

**Well, review if you want.**

**Later on,**

**D243**


	2. Link Wolfe's Journal Continued

**Right, it's me, back again. I can tell you right now that this story will take an extremely long time to write since the book has over 25 chapters, and I want to be as accurate as I can without breaking the canon. Plus, my chapters are becoming longer…this one is over 12 on lined paper… **

**Updates will be slow and **_**very**_** sporadic, so bear with me should you choose to follow this story.**

**Still, this chapter becomes a slight bit more interesting…**

**If I had written ****Dracula****, I'd be dead right now, since it was written in the late 1800s, so therefore, I don't own it. Oh, and Neither do I possess the rights to The Legend of Zelda. And before I forget, I don't own eBay, Apple's iPod, Harlequin romance novels, a certain Duran Duran song, Kleenex, or Tylenol. I use Motrin IB. And a CD walkman. Go figure.**

**And so we go!**

…**..**

_February 5_

I had to have passed out from the pain in my arm, because when I next opened my eyes, we had arrived at Castle Dragmire. It was somewhat similar to Hyrule Castle, though it seemed like its antithesis. The dark stone structure stretched up into the sky like a terrible tower, its peaks and turrets seemed to pierce the moon and claw at the clouds above. The courtyard before us spanned a greater distance than that of the museum's, with arches leading into tunnels that snaked above and below ground level. It made me wonder what terrible sights would have been exposed by the light of day.

When the carriage rolled to a stop and the horses bearing it became still, the Twili driver jumped from his seat with an almost inhuman grace, making no sound as his feet touched the ground. He held a long, spindly fingered hand out to me to help me down from the tall vehicle, and again, I was surprised by his strength. I knew that this was one guy who could cream me in a fight, or even if he was angry enough and just felt like it. I noticed though, that he was careful to avoid the blood seeping through the sleeve of my sweatshirt and was more tense than when I had initially met him.

He took my duffel bag and suitcase out of the carriage and then set them down gently at my feet. His burning orange eyes roved over my bloody sleeve yet again, the orbs seeming to glow a bit brighter. His face paled (as hard as that is to believe) and he pursed his lips as he stared, then abruptly returned to the carriage. I guess the sight of blood made him feel sick.

"You will want to get that looked at," he told me as he leapt nimbly in to the driver's seat. "Before it festers. Wolf bites tend to do that fairly quickly." without another word he cracked the reins and drove the carriage into one of the larger tunnels.

"Right," I muttered as I watched it disappear. "I'll do that."

I winced as a stabbing sensation moved itself up my arm-but it didn't stop there. It travelled into my shoulder, into my torso, and even down to my legs. It was like pins and needles, only about a thousand times worse. I guessed I should get it looked at sooner rather than later.

But now I had an even more pressing issue at hand. I was alone in the courtyard, looking for the door that seemed not to be there. What if I was attacked by bandits? What if the wolves came back to finish me off? Well, if they did, I was totally screwed. Not to mention the blood from my sleeve had begun to drip onto the parched soil and pool at my feet.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. This whole trip felt like some kind of twisted dream. I would have pinched myself, but, you know, I'm quite sure that one does not feel overwhelming pain and warm blood oozing from a bite wound that was _now turning purple_ in a dream. Goddesses how I needed a Tylenol right then. Forget _a_ Tylenol, give me the whole damned bottle.

I blinked rapidly as my vision became blurry and swam, my brain feeling like a fuzzy, mossy rock inside my skull. I began to feel very dizzy, swaying in the spot that I stood in. That's it! I was going to pass out and be eaten by wolves, the very creatures I tried so very hard to protect at the Hyrule National Park and Animal Sanctuary where I worked.

Just as I had come to that rather…disturbing…conclusion, I heard heavy footsteps behind the wall in front of me, I suppose the door, becoming closer. Between the wooden planks of ebon wood which I could now discern, I saw a light, possibly from a torch or flashlight, getting brighter as whoever approached came closer. Then there was the sound of heavy chains clanking, the tiny 'click' of a twist lock, the loud grating of a heavy iron deadbolt being drawn, and finally the sound of a key being turned in a padlock. And then, the massive door swung inward.

In the doorframe, seeming to fill it entirely with his imposing presence, stood a tall, aging man. He had a short, greying orange beard lining his jaw similarly to my own blond one, and a rapidly receding hairline. However, the edges of his salt-and-citrus hair connected with his thick eyebrows. His skin was ashen, and somewhat green, as though he had once been deeply tanned but was now paling after spending so many years wholly out of the sun. he was clad head to toe in some sort of armour that had a gleaming white jewel embedded in the chest plate. It glowed with some sort of inner light. Draped over his broad shoulders was a long, elegant cape clasped with two brooches that vaguely resembled boars' heads. At his waist an impossibly long, slender sword with a gleaming, curved hilt was belted.

He carried, as I had guessed before, a torch that was comprised of a sort of hook-like lamp hanging from a long chain. The flame danced within the bracket, open to the cold night air. I wondered how it stayed live, being exposed like that.

He beckoned for me to come inside with a gesture you'd expect from a knight or something as he said in 100% _perfect_ Hylian, "Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" he made no motion to greet me outside, standing stock still in the door frame, entirely rooted to the spot. It could have been my foggy mind playing tricks on me, but he seemed to want to avoid going outside. Maybe he was afraid of the wolves.

The very instant, though, that I had dragged myself up the steps and onto the castle's threshold, he stepped quickly toward me and took my right hand in a strong gripped, oddly icy handshake. I winced visibly, seeing as that was my injured arm.

He raised the torch and repeated, "welcome to my house. Come freely, go safely and leave something of the happiness you bring!" but his demeanour changed abruptly and his reddish-brown eyes flashed as the light from the flame fell upon my arm. "You have been wounded?"

I nodded. "It was the-" I sucked in air through my teeth- "wolves. They attacked." I paused. "Are you Count Dragmire?"

He bowed in a courtly manner and replied, "I am Dragmire, and I bid you welcome," he raised an eyebrow, as if finding irony in his next words, "Mr. Wolfe. Come in, the night is chill and you are hurt. Your wound must be attended to and you must eat up and rest." he hung the torch on the wall and then stepped out and took my luggage. I protested, but he said, "nay, sir, you are my guest and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself."

"Thank you," I said, finally giving in. "I only have one running request, and it is that you never ask me the time in a formal manner." I grimaced at the memory of the running joke among my colleagues- 'what time is it, Mr. Wolfe?'

Dragmire chuckled in a low, rumbling tone as he carried my bags along the hallway, and then up a long and winding staircase, and then yet again along another great passage while I shuffled wearily along behind him. Our footsteps rang out in ominous echoes among the cavernous stone corridor as we went. At the end of the passage, he threw open a large set of double doors beyond which was a well lit room containing a hearth made to the likeness of a dragon's head. When I saw that the long table in the room was set up with food, my stomach growled and I realized just how hungry I really was.

He put down my bags and then crossed the room and opened another door, behind which was a windowless room lit by a single lamp, beckoning me to follow. We passed through this room into the adjacent one, which turned out to be a bedroom bigger than most of my apartment, containing a soft looking bed and yet another dragon fireplace. The walls were decorated with many gorgeous paintings of wolves.

The Count retrieved my bags as I explored the room, and then withdrew, saying, "you will need after your journey to refresh yourself by visiting the washing room and then tending to your injury. I trust you will find all you need there. When you are finished, come into the other room where you will find your supper prepared."

The overall pleasantness of Dragmire's demeanour and his welcome made me feel at ease, effectively numbing my fears. I crossed into the nearby washroom and found a medicine cabinet-without a mirror-on the wall. I opened it and found, as Dragmire had said, everything I needed. Out of it I took a roll of gauze bandage, antiseptic, and a small bottle of Tylenol. I turned on the sink after peeling off my sticky sweatshirt and then cleaned my arm gingerly. The warm water stung the wound (which thankfully the she-wolf's fangs had not gone through my arm) and tinged the white porcelain bowl a dark pink colour. I discovered that miraculously, no blood had gotten on my white t-shirt. When I had dried my arm with my ruined hoodie, I put some antiseptic on the holes in my arm and almost howled as the liquid sent fire through my veins. When I got over the shock, I unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around the entire length of my forearm from my wrist to my elbow. I had never in my life been more glad to be left handed.

But what made the she wolf back off like that? There was nothing special about my right arm, except, maybe, the silver ring embossed with a pewter wolf's head on my middle finger. From experience, I knew that silver had no effect whatsoever on wolves; it was all just an urban legend.

I shrugged and threw my sweatshirt into a hamper in the corner and then pulled an emerald dress shirt (packed courtesy of Zelda, she'd insisted I try to look classy some of the time) our of my suitcase and them but it on. When I had exonerated myself of my zombie like appearance, I made my way back into the antechamber, and then into the larger room where my host waited.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the dragon fireplace, leaning on its "snout," waved one of his broad hands in gesture to the table and said, "I pray you, be seated and eat as you please. You will, I trust, excuse that I do not join you; but I have dined already."

"No worries," I told him, giving him the sealed certificate from the Park's commissioner that thanked him for his generous donation of 500,000 Rupees. Since I was the chairman of that particular section of the Board, I'd been given the 'honour' to travel just to deliver it in person. I'd told him that I'd be taking work away from the Rito, but he'd insisted that it would be more professional if I did it in person.

The count himself took off the cover of one of the extravagant looking dishes on the table. The moment the bell shaped lid was lifted, the mouth watering scent of a well made shepherd's pie made its way to me. I sat at the mahogany table and cut myself a generous slice and Dragmire poured me a glass of wine, which I refused for one of water. While I was eating, he asked me to leave out no details of my journey as he asked questions, emphasizing on the wolf attack.

By the time my story was finished, so was my supper. I thanked him for the wonderful meal, to which he claimed that it had been no trouble at all. I gathered from his nonchalance to the troubles of hosting that he did not entertain many guests.

Dragmire then drew up a chair for both himself and I by the fireplace, where we both took a seat. He proceeded to ask me a profuse many more questions, mostly about what my work entailed.

While we talked, I took the opportunity to examine his features a bit more, now that I could make heads or tails about what I was seeing.

He was unlike any person I'd ever met before. His face was rugged and weather worn, and much a similar colour to a classical bronze statue that had faded in the sun. his jaw was pronounced and strong, and he had a large nose that protruded from his face like a beak, but had a rounded end as opposed to a sharp one. Up close, I could tell that he wore some type of jewelled headdress that tangled in his deliberately curled hair and jutted out from his head like a spiked crown. He had thin lips under which sharp looking and pearly white teeth could be seen.

He must have noticed my scrutiny, for he grinned, exposing those wicked teeth. Unconsciously I ran my tongue over my own teeth, and I discovered that my own canines were longer than I'd previously thought, but nowhere near as obvious as Dragmire's.

While he asked me questions, he gestured broadly and frequently with his large hands, which I could tell were used to gripping some sort of implement; a shovel or sword perhaps. But what struck me as odd was that there were small hairs on his palms. I took it as nothing, though, because this guy had weird habits and sense of style…maybe he shaved his hands? That wouldn't surprise me in the least.

After awhile he seemed to run out of questions and so we sat in silence. I forget exactly what it was, but my friend Sheik, Zelda's cousin (and the one who had introduced us) had always said something…what?…was born every time there was an awkward silence.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of many wolves howling. As I listened to them, I felt a strange sense of homesickness, and my bite became itchy.

The Count's eyes gleamed and he said, "Listen to them-the children of the night. What beautiful music they make! I suppose the sound is nothing strange to you. It must be a pleasure to be around them so often." He stood and continued, "But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready and tomorrow you shall sleep as late as you wish. I will have to be away until the late afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!"

I bade him a good night and then went into the room that would serve as my quarters for the remainder of my stay. I changed my bandages and switched out my clothes for an undershirt and boxer shorts, and then climbed into the bed, which I found extremely comfortable.

As I lay listening to the wolves, I thought about everything that had happened, especially about the she wolf and the bite. Could she have been a werewolf?

"No way," I chuckled and then rolled over, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders and twisting the ring on my finger.

_February 7_

I woke up very late, and discovered that I had slept a full twenty four hours without waking once.

When I'd dressed in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, I went into the room with the big dragon fireplace. There I found a cold breakfast of cereal, fruit, and OJ already lain out on the table. There was a note beside the napkin that read,

_I must be absent for awhile. Do not wait for me. -D_

I shrugged and then set at my breakfast, inhaling the food as if I hadn't eaten it in days. More irony was my dessert: Zelda often liked to remark how I 'wolfed' down my meals.

When I had drained the dregs of milk after the cereal had been devoured, I looked for some way, a bell perhaps (after all, this _was_ a castle) to summon one of the servants Dragmire had mentioned to get the dishes. I would have done so myself, but the Count had never told me where to find the kitchen. However, there was no apparent means to call.

There were certainly a lot of things that seemed to be missing from the castle, considering all of the stuff there that showed off Dragmire's obvious wealth.

The silverware (which isn't the correct term in this case) was made from pure gold inlaid with amazingly intricate designs. The curtains, furniture, upholstery, and even the sheets on my bed were made from the finest cloth, each embroidered with such painstaking care and detail. They must have been of amazing value back in the day when they'd been made, as their patterns suggested to me that they were centuries old. (How'd I know this? Well, my girlfriend _was _a major history buff.) It almost made me wonder how much they'd go for on eBay.

But still… None of the rooms had a mirror in it, not even the washroom. I had to use the little compact I'd taken from home to shave.

Now done with breakfast, I wandered back o my room and took a pad of white paper and my iPod out of the suitcase and then returned to the 'Dragon Room,' as it shall hereby be called. I didn't want to go exploring through the castle (but I really, _really_ did) without the Count's express permission, and, with the wolves, was _NOT_ going outside.

Plugging in the earbuds and turning on a good song, I noticed another door off to the left. Curious, I got up and opened it-it was unlocked-and found that it contained a library stuffed to the ceiling with books of all kinds.

They were on random topics, from modern political science to VERY ancient history (he seemed a tad obsessed with some guy called the 'Hero of Time'), and even a few Harlequin romances. A large table in the centre of the room was covered in newspapers from each of the major cities in Hyrule's provinces.

I stacked the newspapers in no particular order and then sat at the table and began to draw. At first my doodle started out as nothing, but by the time four songs had finished, it was, if I do say so myself, a nice rendition of my lady and our dog.

Just as the song _Hungry Like the Wolf_ (MORE irony) had begun, the door to the library opened and Dragmire stepped in. I silenced the player and put it in my pocket as he saluted me in a hearty way and said he'd hoped I'd slept well.

"I'm glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you. These," he went on, putting a hand on a stack of books, "have been good friends to me, and fore some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to Castle Town, or beyond, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to terms with the modern era, and I am very fascinated by all the technology. I long to go through the crowded streets of your capital, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its ever changing nature, and its death, all that makes it what it is. But alas! As yet I only know the Hylian language through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak. Tell me: how fares your wound?"

I frowned slightly. "It is… it's almost healed! I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I changed the gauze. That's some antispetic you have," I told him. "But… Even if your tone _is_ a bit old fashioned-no offence-you know and speak Hylian as if you've been doing so all your life!"

He bowed to me yet again. "I thank you, my friend, for your all too flattering estimate, but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I know the grammar and the words, yet I know not how to speak them."

"Wha-?" I spluttered. "If it's not Hylian you're talking, then what language are we speaking?"

He chuckled. "If I were to move and speak in your Ordon, for instance, none who are there would know me and would mark me as a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble; the common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no-one; men know him not-and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he sees me, or pause in his speaking if he hears my words to say, 'ha ha! A stranger!'

"I have been so long that I would be master still-or at least that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as an agent of my friend who is your commissioner, but to tell me about my new estate in Ordon near your park. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile so that by our talking I may learn the Hylian intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make an error, even of the smallest in my speaking. Now. I must apologize for my extended absence; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand."

The look on his face showed naught but the most sincerity, and so I had no trouble in forgiving him. When we had moved on, I asked if I had permission to go to and from the library as I chose. He answered, 'yes, certainly,' and added:

"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand. We are not in Ordon, and so our ways are not yours, and thus there are many things that will be strange to you. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things here may be."

He finished his short speech, but he was far done from talking. We discussed plenty of topics, and I paid special attention to the folklore and happenings of this side of the country. Of course, the questions I asked about the wildlife and other things that went bump in the night were answered bluntly and with little to no elaboration. Time ticked by, and I grew more courageous with my conversation. So, I asked about the strange happenings from the other night. Why did the wolves behave so strangely, and the villagers even more so? Was it true that there was a monster in our midst?

"There is no more a monster in the wilds of my palace than in the hearts of those who fabricate their tales. There was a time that such a thing may have been real; a time of fierce battle and holy power. Those who would be destined to find it, I dare be sworn, would not be able to do so again."

"You've got a point there," I said. "You only hear about 'battle' when someone tangles with the cops on the six o'clock news." Our talk quickly settled on other things after that.

"Come," he said at last, "tell me of Ordon and of the house which you have procured for me." I apologized for my scatter-braininess, and then went to my room to get the papers from my bag. While I shuffled them, I heard a rattling of silverware and dishes in the Dragon Room, and as I passed through, I noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp lit, for it was by this time past nightfall. The lamps were also on in the library, and I found the Count sitting on the couch reading, of all things, a comic book.

When I came in, he cleared the books and papers from the table, and together we went over the plans for the estate, and the acreage of the land he'd received as a thank you gift for his generous donation. The large house that sat on the property had not been lived in for a _very_ long time, and was a bit dilapidated. Even the gates, I informed him, were so rusted that they no longer worked.

"I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am from an old family and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that it is so near the fabled Hyrule Castle. I myself am old, and often long for those forgotten days."

Somehow his words and the expression on his face seemed to coincide a bit _too_ well, as if those 'forgotten days' were not history but a fond memory.

Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all my papers together. He wasn't gone long before I began to look at some of the books. I found that most of his mouldy old tomes were written in Ancient Hylian, a language that I had taken a few courses in back in college (and that Zelda was nearly fluent in, curse her and her brain), and barely understood.

It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned.

"Aha!" he said; "still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come, I am informed that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and we went into the next room where I found a delicious looking meal set out, prompting drool to form at my lips. I was hungrier than I had realized.

The Count again excused himself, claiming he'd eaten while out of the house. But he sat with me as on the previous night, and chatted while I ate. When I was done he remained, and we talked again late into the night. After a long time, I felt my eyelids begin to want to close, but I kept them open since I felt obligated to my host to continue out chat.

Before either of us knew what time it was, the shrill cry of a Cucco from a nearby farm cut through the atmosphere. Count Dragmire, jumping to his feet, said, "Why, there is the morning again! How I remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation regarding my near new home of Ordon less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us," and, with a sweeping bow, he left me.

I went into my room and opened the curtains, but there wasn't much of a view, since the morning fog was too thick and so obscured my sight from the surrounding landscape. So, I closed the thick drapes again, and called it a day.

_February 8_

I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too disorganized; but now I'm glad that I went into so much detail before. There was something, I decided, that made me feel uneasy about this place. I was starting to wish that I'd never come here. It might have been my sudden shift to being nocturnal, and that I was just overtired. Or, it could be homesickness, or that I was, in fact, extremely bored. I wish there was someone else to talk to here. It was almost as if I was the only one living here.

I only slept a few hours before the call of nature had me up again, so I went into the bathroom to, well, you get the idea. When that was all said and done, I concluded that it was time to shave again. I took out my razor and the compact and stood in front of the window, and as the blade touched my jaw, I felt a large hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good morning."

I jumped what had to have been two feet in the air, since I was sure I hadn't seen his reflection in the small mirror, since he was standing that close. After being scared witless, I realized that I had cut myself, but didn't notice immediately, because I had been returning the Count's (creepy) good morning with a nervous smile. I returned to my task, and deliberately angled the compact to an angle that it could show only his face, but lo and behold, he wasn't in the mirror. My eye twitched and I shuddered. I guess that was another thing to add to my odd vibes from him.

I turned the mirror back to show me my own face, and discovered that the nick on my jaw had begun to bleed more, the crimson liquid now dripping over my chin. I cursed quietly and then looked for some Kleenex with which to stop the flow. When the Count saw my face, his features were contorted with a look of pure rage and disgust, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I dodged his move, and his fingers just grazed the chain that the tiny metal Triforce hung from. It mage an instant change in him, and it was as if the fury had never been there.

"Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country." Then, he snatched the compact from my hands, and went on, "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" He opened the heavy window with one mighty push of his thick hand, and chucked the small mirror out of it. Without another word he stormed out of the room.

Now how was I going to shave? What's more, that didn't even belong to me…

When I went into the dining room, breakfast was once again already there, but Dragmire was nowhere to be found, so I ate alone. Strangely enough, I've never seen him eat or drink. He must not like people watching him eat.

After breakfast, I did some sleuthing in the castle's long corridors. I went downstairs and found a south-facing room. The view was great, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle sat on the edge of a terribly deep chasm. I wondered briefly how long it would take a Rupee to hit the bottom if someone dropped one. As far as the eye could see there was an endless blanket of trees, and in this season, the vast forests looked like a dead, hollow place.

But I'm not writing a postcard here, for when I finished sightseeing I explored some more, finding nothing but doors, doors, doors everywhere, and not a single one unlocked. There was no exit, unless one wanted to jump out the window.

This castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!


End file.
